


His Affections Be Her Salvation

by ServantOfMischief



Series: Their Affections [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Fat Shaming, Fluff, I'm not really good with it, Light Angst, Mostly Fluff, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Rating May Change, Regency Era, Regency Romance, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Verbal Abuse, but i tried, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ServantOfMischief/pseuds/ServantOfMischief
Summary: Gabriel is determined to make his cousin's stay as comfortable as possible, despite the conditions that came with housing her in his home. Aziraphale has no illusions as to why she's heading to London, why her father seemed so happy with sending her away, but she will not look a gift horse in the mouth.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Their Affections [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711135
Comments: 195
Kudos: 247
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Her Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pinkpiggy93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkpiggy93/gifts).



Gabriel makes one final check up on the final preparations for the new arrival coming to his home, to stay for an undetermined amount of time. He oversees the servants finishing the last of the cleaning to be done, for the curtains to be pulled aside to allow the sunlight inside, for the heavy quilt to be properly tucked, for every comfort to be accommodated for.

“Lord Ecclestone.” Gabriel turns and sees his trusty butler stand behind him, bowing his head respectfully. “A carriage is arriving.” And this is it, isn’t it? This is where things change, a task has been given to him which he does not want, a task he finds disrespectful to the recipient, but then again, he had not been given much of a choice, only a notice. He doesn’t believe the person arriving had much of a choice in the matter either, but they most likely did not argue with their parent about this either.

“Right.” Gabriel nods and moves past the man and down the stairs through the lavish entry hall and outside. He moves down the steps, squinting against the bright light assaulting him as he exits his estate. By the time he’s at the bottom of the stairs leading to his courtyard, the carriage has stopped. The driver leaps down with a grace only drivers with years of experience has and opens the door, holding out a hand for the occupant to grasp as support as they exit the carriage.

And there she is. Aziraphale Fell, Gabriel’s cousin on his mother’s side. He hasn’t seen her for years, but little has changed. Her eyes are still big and sky blue, her hair is still a nearly golden-white blonde and her entire appearance is… soft. Not _big_ , per see, but not the kind of appearance ladies of high standing are expected to have by society. It’s not the conventional look, sharp, haughty and regal, but then again, his cousin has never been very conventional. And that’s part of her charm, he thinks.

“Gabriel.” She smiles uncertainly at him as she descends from the carriage, clasping her hands in front of her once she is safely on the ground. She’s barely meeting his gaze, perhaps uncomfortable and nervous by the amount of time it has been since they’ve seen each other, so he steps forward, grabs her hands and her attention, fixing her with a gentle smile in an attempt at comforting her, calming her nerves and make her feel welcome.

“Aziraphale, welcome. Did you have a pleasant trip?” He asks her, and she seems to calm down a bit, her shoulders dropping as a more genuine smile blooms on her face, though still small, still holding herself back.

“Yes, I did, thank you.” He nods at her, glad to hear it. It’s a long trip, but he believes she has been better off in the carriage than at her own home anyway. At least for the last year.

“Everything has been made ready for you. Come, let me show you.” He tucks her hand carefully, gently, into the crook of his arm, and leads her inside, stopping long enough to allow her to tell the servants to be careful with her luggage before moving on. It’s been years since Aziraphale was here last, she was nothing but a little girl back then, but she seems to remember her way well enough for Gabriel to know she will not get lost easily.

“Here are your chambers.” He leads her inside, after the tour of the estate, and she seems happy to see that her luggage has been brought up. “You must be hungry from your long trip. How about you freshen up, and we go out for dinner?” Gabriel suggests and she nods.

“Yes, I’d like that.” She tells him quietly, with none of the gusto he remembers her having when food is mentioned. Before Gabriel leaves, he notices that the handmaiden he has assigned to Aziraphale’s service, Sonya, is staring rather dumbfounded into Aziraphale’s luggage. He learns later on that it is because Aziraphale has brought rather few articles of clothing with her, and more books.

As they enjoy dinner, Gabriel informs his cousin that there will soon be a party which he is expected to attend, and that he’s hoping to bring her along. Aziraphale looks a bit uncomfortable hearing this and makes the excuse that she didn’t bring any fancy gowns with her. She will not look good on his arm, she tells him. He eyes her plate, seeing that she is more pushing her food around than actually eating it. Which is something he doesn’t think fits her. He dismisses the thought, aspiring to tackle one thing at a time.

“A quick trip to the tailor should fix that.” He says, though he notices that she still appears distraught at the thought, so he puts down his glass of wine and folds his hands on the table, trying to appear gentle and non-threatening. She’s been jumpy every time he’s passed her in the house all day, and quiet and tense during the trip out to this place.

“I will not force you, Aziraphale, but I do hope you’ll accompany me. There is good food and good company, and you might make friends. I know you prefer books to people, I don’t think that has changed considering the luggage you brought with you, but it’s good to have someone to talk to besides me.” Aziraphale doesn’t answer verbally, but her cheeks tint in embarrassment as she nods slowly.

“Good. You’re free to change your mind, but we’re still going to the tailor. After all, books are all well and good, but they do a poor job of being decent clothing.” Her cheeks tint darker. He chuckles fondly. The dinner is pleasant after that, but the carriage drive back to the estate is awkward and quiet at first. Aziraphale hasn’t spoken much since her arrival, but now, as they are alone, she seems to be gathering her courage, saying the words she’s been hesitant to voice since her arrival.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Gabriel.”

“Inconvenience?” Gabriel echoes, raising a brow and turning in his seat. Aziraphale resolutely looks straight forward.

“About me coming to stay here in London with you. I know it is because father hopes you can find a lord to marry me off to.” To Gabriel’s credit, his face betrays nothing.

“Father always complains about me reading, or not attracting suitable suitors from which he can profit from.”

“I think it’s rather that you reject any potential suitor. Your mother wrote to me often, told me how you refused each and every one, before her death.” Aziraphale flushes darkly, biting her lower lip. It’s not been even a year since Aziraphale’s mother passed away, and Gabriel is sure Aziraphale only got away with rejecting her suitors because her mother kept her father from raging about it. There is no one to hide behind anymore.

“None of them wanted me for me. I know it’s foolish and romantic to think like that, but… Either way, I am sorry for all the trouble.” Gabriel weighs her words carefully, before he speaks, knowing that no matter how he phrases it, the words will hurt her. He never actually planned on telling her because of this exact reason, but Aziraphale is far from stupid. She already knows, but him telling her will cement it, make it truer.

“Your father… has given me custody of you. I am your guardian, everything goes through me. You are my charge, my responsibility.” Aziraphale’s eyes do not widen in surprise, shock or sadness, but her lower lip does wobble as she visibly tries to keep the tears welling in her eyes at bay.

“And for me, it doesn’t matter if you want to marry or not. If you’d rather surround yourself with books, you’re free to do that. Just because your father sent you to me so I could find you a husband, I have no intention of doing anything you do not want.” A tear does escape her now, but the blonde offers him a genuine smile in thanks for Gabriel’s reassurances as she reaches up to carefully wipe it away.

“Oh well, it’s soon too late for me anyway. I’m already nearing the middle of my twenties.” She jokes, though it kind of falls flat.

“Oh shush.” Gabriel rolls his eyes at her joke, though a smile does break out on his own face as well. At least now the air has been cleared and they are both on the same page. Gabriel is also sincere. If Aziraphale doesn’t want to marry, she truly will be free to surround herself with her books. He suspects she’ll find a way to fill his library soon enough.


	2. His Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These social events are such dull affairs. 
> 
> Or maybe not

Crowley isn’t really all that fond of these posh parties. The people are obnoxious and rich, well, he’s rich too, but he at least has got _some_ humility in him.

Not much, by all means, but a little more than these people anyways.

He can only stomach the presence of a few of these people, and he’s waiting for the last of them to make his entrance. Gabriel Ecclestone is rumoured to bring a lady with him tonight, and Crowley snorts at the thought. If Gabriel truly is bringing someone along, then they’d be the kind none of the men or women here would enjoy. Sharp, both in body and spirit. And even so, Crowley hasn’t heard from Beelzebub in a while. If they were to make an appearance here with Gabriel, they would definitively have given Crowley notice to have the alcohol at the ready.

So no, Crowley doesn’t believe the rumours. And he’s tired from his recent business trip and just wants to go home and sleep, not be here for god knows how long he’s expected to be here. It’s also early January, it’s cold and Crowley is no fan of the cold. He’s more of a fan of his warm bed and a tumbler of some very good and expensive scotch, especially after a trip like that. Then the announcer calls out.

“Lord Gabriel Ecclestone, and Lady Aziraphale Fell.” Crowley nearly chokes on his wine. Gabriel is actually bringing a companion? Someone who is not Beelzebub? What did he miss? And then the two moves into the redhead’s sight, and Crowley nearly drops his glass. The lady on Gabriel’s arm is… gorgeous is the only word to describe her, truly. Her golden-white hair pulled back tightly in beautiful braids, wide blue eyes, the slightly nervous smile on her face as she’s lead around and introduced to various people… She is gorgeous, there are no other words that pop into Crowley’s head as he watches them move about. She’s nearly glowing, and now the redhead is almost to the point of mentally reciting poetry, and that is annoying, because he is terrible at it. Crowley shakes his head subtly and moves forward. A small chat with Gabriel, and then he can leave, go home and get some well-deserved rest.

“Lord Ecclestone.” He greets, and the man turns around swiftly, a pleasant smile stretching across his face.

“Lord Crowley. Allow me to introduce my cousin, Lady Aziraphale Fell. Aziraphale, this is a business associate of mine, Lord Anthony J. Crowley.” The blonde smiles at him and Crowley is pretty sure that everyone can hear the ridiculous hammering in his chest at the sight.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Crowley.” The blonde beauty curtsies and Crowley takes her hand in his, pressing a feather light kiss to the back of her hand, trying not to grin like a fool just because Gabriel named her his cousin, and because of the incredibly adorable flush spreading across her cheeks as he looks up. Even behind his shades he can see the colour clearly. He finds himself having to fight harder to keep his grin back.

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady. I was not aware Lord Ecclestone would bring such a lovely lady with him tonight.” The colour on her cheeks darkens and isn’t that a pretty sight.

“I wasn’t aware you had even returned, Lord Crowley. I thought you were still in Paris?” Gabriel answers smoothly and Crowley shrugs.

“I finished up my business early.” The redhead says indifferently. “It wasn’t that difficult, just a minor understanding we cleared up. All is right again.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Gabriel says before catching the eye of another associate of his. “Do forgive us, I need to speak with Lord Ashworth.”

“By all means.” Crowley says, taking a small step back. “It’s been lovely, Lady Fell.” He addresses the blonde who nods back.

“Lord Crowley.” The blonde says in farewell, before she lets herself be swept away by her cousin. Crowley watches them go, before finding himself something to snack on and another glass of wine. Perhaps he should stay a little longer, perhaps this party won’t be so terrible after all. Several times Crowley finds himself staring at the lady, and finds he is not the only one in the room. Some men stare at her like she is a three-course meal (Crowley probably is too, but he’s not going to admit to that), and the women seem to have divided themselves into two groups. One speaking of the way her hair has been done, how her dress suits her, her fair skin and how nice it is to see a new face while the other group… Crowley won’t repeat their words out loud. He chalks it up to them being jealous shrews. The blonde lady is absolutely gorgeous with the way she fills out that dress. He has always found it more attractive when the women fit their clothes.

It’s a whole lot more attractive than scarecrows walking about.

He doesn’t even realize the lady is looking back at him before she tilts her head curiously. He blinks, and is quite happy he is wearing his coloured lenses because they hide his line of sight, somewhat, but it is still quite obvious that he has been staring. He offers a small nod and a smile before moving on.

Before he makes an even bigger fool of himself.

He engages others in slight small talk, pointedly avoids a few who he knows wants him to marry their daughters (because these people haven’t understood his first ten “no’s”), before he decides to retire early. So, he excuses himself to the hosts, before making his way towards the exit.

“Lord Crowley!” He turns halfway around and sees Gabriel come towards him, unfortunately without his lady cousin.

“Lord Ecclestone?”

“Leaving already?”

“It’s been a long day, and I’m weary from my travels.” He offers and it is the truth. He’d barely managed to wash himself and redress before he had to come here to this party. And he has fulfilled his social duties for the night. He finds it better to leave before his exhaustion turns his mood sour, and he accidentally (not so much) offends someone.

“Would you mind if I come by tomorrow? I have matters I wish to discuss with you.”

“Of course.” Crowley nods.

“Good.” Gabriel says, shakes the man’s hand and moves back inside while Crowley heads down to his carriage and retires to his home, where he promptly passes out on his bed.

A long day indeed.


	3. Her Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet a second time, and Crowley offers Aziraphale an Arrangement

Aziraphale is nervous. She never expected to be pulled along with Gabriel on a visit to a business partner, not just after a party in which she had been introduced to so many people. She isn’t feeling too comfortable about this and voices her worry to Gabriel as they sit in the carriage, though her cousin immediately goes about attempting to calm her down.

“Nothing to fret about. Lord Crowley has quite the extensive library. You can go there while we talk. I’m sure you’ll find something to occupy your time.” Gabriel says and Aziraphale nods, feeling a bit better about it.

“Lord Crowley is the gentleman in all dark, yes? The one with those coloured glasses?”

“Yes.” Gabriel answers.

“A business associate, you said?”

“Yes, we do business frequently. He’s a bit curt and sharp around the edges, but he’s a good man.”

“I dearly hope so, if you work with him, cousin.” Gabriel turns his head to look at her, raising a brow.

“Do I sense sarcasm coming from you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Aziraphale asks innocently, tilting her head. Gabriel barks out a short laugh, knowing full well that the blonde is just playing him.

“Should I ever have children, I’ll have to employ you as their governess. They could learn a thing or two from you.”

“Oh, I would enjoy that!” Aziraphale claps her hands together, truly appreciating the thought of being the governess of tiny little children, teaching them how to read and write and maths. Excited as well. “Now, bring about some!” And the man nearly chokes on air.

“I’m not even married.” Gabriel protests with a good natured laugh once he gets his bearings.

“Oh, there are orphans in need of a good home. Bring some joy and comfort into their lives.” While she does have a point, Gabriel is not going to add such a commitment to his life just yet. But he’s glad to see Aziraphale feeling better. She’s been working herself up to be cheery again, like he remembered her from their younger years. Learning of the reason as to why her father had sent her to Gabriel must have hurt her something fiercely, even if she had her suspicions at the time. Gabriel has every intention of making sure Aziraphale is comfortable, that her every need is met, because that is what she deserves. Also, he is not much a fan of his uncle and his bloody conditions.

The dark-haired man doesn’t agree with Aziraphale’s father to take responsibility for the lady because he agreed with the man’s intentions. He did it because he respected his aunt’s wishes and because his cousin has never been anything but kind towards him. And she deserves better. Aziraphale quickly sees that Crowley’s home is just as huge as her cousin’s, and she expects to find herself losing her way quickly if she’s left alone, though once they are inside a servant, by Gabriel’s request, leads the blonde to the library. Aziraphale is awed by what she finds. It is rather extraordinary, larger than even Gabriel’s, and filled to the brim. It’s got two floors, and so many shelves and it is well-lit by the many windows allowing light inside. She’s not sure she’d ever manage to read each and every one even if she spent every waking hour for the rest of her life in this room. Which would be highly inappropriate, considering she does not know this man, nor is she in any way related to him. But, oh, she would enjoy unlimited access to this splendour. Lord Crowley must be a well-read man.

She explores the vast room, letting her hands trail carefully over worn backs, before she pulls a book from a shelf, opening it carefully. It’s in good condition, but Aziraphale is careful nonetheless as she reads it, flip the pages reverently. It’s a good story, she notes as she reads, quickly turning out the world around her as she falls into the world of words.

“Aziraphale!” She jolts, nearly dropping the book as Gabriel calls out to her. What terrible timing, she thinks. She is almost at the end.

“We’ll be on our way now.” Gabriel says and she blinks, before looking down at the book in her hands, frowning. Truly terrible timing, she truly wants to know the ending to the story. Steps informs her she’s being approached, and soon enough her cousin and Crowley stand in front of her. It must show on her face that she does not want to part with this book just yet, for Crowley gestures to it.

“You may borrow it, so you can properly finish it.” Gabriel silently admits to himself that though it is rather impossible in theory, it does seem like the entire room brightens up by the radiant, excited smile on Aziraphale’s face. He’d very much like a pair of Crowley’s coloured glasses at this point.

“Truly?”

“Of course. Help yourself to any you fancy.” Crowley gestures to the shelves, and suddenly it’s almost a bit unbearably bright as Aziraphale clutches the book to her chest, curls bouncing as she turns to look at the shelf once more. And then her legs buckle beneath her, and both men grab an arm each to steady her from falling.

“Oh!” The book clutters to the ground as she loses her hold on it in her surprise.

“Aziraphale? Are you alright?” Gabriel asks worriedly.

“My feet hurt.” The lady breathes out. “Silly of me, I should have found myself a seat.” And the library has several comfortable looking chairs, tables and settees. She should have found herself a seat before opening any book.

“Seat- you’ve been standing this whole time?” Gabriel demands and Aziraphale tilts her head at him. “We’ve been here for hours!”

“Oh, I didn’t notice.” Of course she hasn’t, she’s been too absorbed in her book, Gabriel thinks with a shake of his head as he and Crowley leads her over to a chair.

“I’ll have someone bring us some tea.” Crowley says as he retrieves the book on the floor.

“There is no need!” Aziraphale feels awfully ridiculous and an absolute burden but stops herself from arguing any further when Crowley presses the book into her hands.

“It is no bother, I assure you. Let your feet rest a bit, yes?”

“Thank you.” She says quietly, looking down into her lap. Crowley says nothing, but he disappears for a bit and Gabriel hums.

“Awfully kind of Lord Crowley to fetch us some tea, and to allow you to borrow his book. If you’re quick about it, you might finish it.” Aziraphale looks up at him, before down again, frowning a bit.

“Have we really been here for hours?” Her feet and legs ache terribly, but she can’t quite bring herself to believe that she was so absorbed into the story that she did not notice how much time has passed.

“Oh yes, we’re well past lunchtime.”

“We missed lunch?” The near agonized expression on her face nearly makes the man laugh. He stops himself and nods.

“Yes, but I’m sure I can have the servants make something once we get back.”

“That would be lovely, I’m starving.” The sound of someone clearing their throat makes them both look up, and Aziraphale’s face flushes red, embarrassed that someone she’s barely spoken to heard her admit to feeling peckish. Crowley has returned and is obviously holding back a laugh from the blonde’s words. How utterly humiliating.

“If you want lunch, my own cooks are rather cross I didn’t tell them I would be busy, and have prepared quite a lot. Why don’t you eat here? After all, I’m the one who kept Lord Ecclestone here for quite some time.” The man says politely. It’s kind of him to offer, and Aziraphale looks at Gabriel, and she realizes as her cousin looks back at her that it is up to her to decide.

“I… I would very much like that, yes. Thank you, Lord Crowley.” She says and makes a valiant effort at getting up on her feet. She manages without wincing too much. Oh her legs truly do ache. She suspects they’ll bother her the rest of her day.

“Well then, shall we?” Crowley gestures, and Gabriel supports Aziraphale out to the patio, where they enjoy a lovely lunch, and the men continue to talk of business while Aziraphale continues to enjoy her borrowed book. She actually finishes it before lunch is over, almost to her pity. It truly was a great novel, and she enjoyed it thoroughly. Aziraphale wonders if Crowley have any more just as exciting as this one, but it would be rude to ask, won’t it? This is only her second meeting with the man, after all.

“Finished already, Aziraphale?” Gabriel notices.

“Unfortunately, yes, Gabriel.” The blonde sighs. “It was a very good read. Thank you, Lord Crowley, for your offer, but it seems I am no longer in any need to borrow it.”

“At least you enjoyed it. I’ve never seen anyone read so quickly.” Again the blonde flushes, and Gabriel snorts. Quite unlike a gentleman should.

“She’s already ravaged my library. All I hear are complaints about how lacking it is.” Aziraphale feels a stab of annoyance at Gabriel’s moaning, and answers in kind.

“It’s a tiny collection of texts, cousin, not a library.” She takes a sip of her tea, ignoring the way Gabriel rolls his eyes, but Crowley’s bark of laughter nearly startles her.

“Cheek!” He chuckles, adjusting his dark lenses. “If it’s such a hardship, Lady Fell, you’re welcome to come by at any time to borrow any book you want.” Crowley blinks at the way Aziraphale looks at him then, like he’s said the most incredible thing she’s ever heard.

“Truly? It wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“No, or else I would not have offered.” The lady is on her feet in moments, the finished book cradled in her hand like it’s the greatest treasure she’s ever held in her hands.

“Oh thank you, Lord Crowley! I shall find one at once, and we’ll be out of your hair!” And then she’s gone, the clicking of her slight heels echoing down the halls.

“Didn’t… didn’t her feet hurt?” Crowley questions, surprised with the haste in which she had run off.

“You gave her free access to your library. A minor inconvenience like leg-pain is no obstacle.” It’s a fond chuckle that leaves the dark-haired man.

“I must admit, and do not take this the wrong way, but she is like a breath of fresh air.” Crowley says and Gabriel regards him.

“How so?”

“Well, first off, not dreary like most of the local Londoners.”

“Is that even a word? Londoners?”

“And second,” Crowley carries on, “the pure joy she finds in something as simple as a book, it’s fascinating. Compared to the back-talking that happens here, it’s nice.”

“Admittedly, it feels brighter at home now.” Gabriel says, nodding along. Having Aziraphale under his roof isn’t a hardship. “Though I am of a mind to give her a fund so she can purchase books for my ‘ _very lacking’_ library. That ought to keep her occupied for a while.”

“I wish you luck on that venture.” Crowley raises a brow.

“Well, anything to keep her mind occupied for as long as I can.”

“Really? May I ask if something’s wrong?” Gabriel regards him for a moment before sighing, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Nothing more than her being born into a family who can’t properly appreciate her.” Crowley raises a second brow, but asks no more about it as Gabriel stands up.

“I’d best check up on her, lest she spends another few hours in your library.”

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Crowley laughs, only to hide how much that thought actually appeals to him.


	4. His Library

Aziraphale finishes the book with a sigh. Romance novels are a guilty pleasure of hers, and while she has no illusions about how her own life will end up, certainly not like any of the characters in the novels, she does enjoy reading about it. But now that she has finished it, she has to go to sleep. She has an inkling that she might regret staying up so late when she has an early appointment tomorrow at the tailors. Aziraphale herself don’t think that she needs all these extravagant dresses Gabriel supplies her with, but considering he is letting her do what she wants, and even has given her the task of filling the empty shelves in his library (a task she finds she will greatly enjoy), she doesn’t put up much of a fight about it.

It’s not a hardship, and it’s not uncomfortable. She has even begun to build tentative friendships with others at the parties he brings her to attend, and for that she is grateful. She expects she will be living here in London for a while, and while she does so enjoy reading books and being left alone as such, she can’t deny that being invited out for tea and conversations (gossip) is a pleasant experience. She needs human contact, like any other human. With these thoughts she falls asleep.

Aziraphale is proven right the moment she is woken up by her handmaiden the next morning. She did stay up for too late the night before. She forces herself up, washes herself, gets dressed before she eats a lovely breakfast and then she finds herself in a carriage to the city. She feels awfully tired, and inside the carriage she doesn’t keep up any pretence. She yawns and tries to shake the tiredness before she has to leave her transportation.

The tailor, Dagon, has found Aziraphale beautiful fabrics of cream white and blue, and has fashioned said fabrics into a rather incredible dress, and Aziraphale admits it looks lovely on her. She’s just not that used to such a wide neckline, though Dagon insists that it’s perfect on her, and who is Aziraphale to argue with a professional? Especially considering this professional is the highest most sought after tailor in the city? Once her appointment is over, she directs her driver to Crowley’s estate. Over the course of the last three months Aziraphale has come to know Crowley rather well. She enjoys his company, though he’s been gone for the last week and a half, on some business out of London somewhere. She didn’t ask what said business is about, as she has nothing to do with it after all, but she still has access to his library, even if he is gone from his own home.

The door is opened to her, and she finds herself moving towards the library, accepting the offer of having tea and biscuits brought to her. She has no intention of staying for too long, but she won’t decline being brought something to nibble on as she deposits the book she has finished in its rightful place, and then begins the search for a new book. The moment she walks through the doors to the room, she is again marvelling over how vast the room is, and while she has already read a few of the books in this room, there are still so many to explore, to read, to treasure. She lets her fingers trace worn leather backs as she walks around, before finally finding a title that catches her attention. She smiles, and reaches up to pull the book out of the shelf-

“How many have you read now?” A voice, gravelly with sleep asks behind and she jumps startled, hand flying to her chest as she whirls around, curls tossing about.

“Lord Crowley!” She sighs, slumping against the shelf for one blessed second, before straightening up, eyes narrowing and mouth forming into a pout. “Why do you insist on startling me each and every time?” The man chuckles, running a hand through his sleep mussed hair.

“I don’t mean to, you just block out the world when you come in here, Lady Fell.” He tells her and she flushes an adorable pink, because he isn’t wrong. She knows full well that the moment she has the chance to look for or read a book, everything around her becomes mere background noise. And Crowley has seen first-hand that it is indeed true.

“Weren’t you supposed to be on a trip?” She tries to salvage what is left of her dignity by changing the subject and the man nods, allowing it.

“Yes, I returned early this morning.”

“I assume it went well, whatever it was?”

“As well as expected. It’ll take some more work, surely, but I can do that from here.” He tells her and she doesn’t pry any more. It’s not any of her business, and he has been more than courteous with his answer, giving away more than she is privy to. Maybe this is one of the reasons why she feels comfortable around him, because he doesn’t look down his nose at her, like she’s inferior. Conversing with him is a pleasant affair, and today is no different.

“Will you be at the event tomorrow?” She asks instead, trying to shove those thoughts away as she reaches for the book she has chosen, holding it close to herself. Crowley nods, a small grimace passing as he tells her it is expected of him to show since he has returned in time. Aziraphale is glad to hear it, that she’ll be able to see him soon again, even if it’ll be at a party and she can’t hog all his attention, because such behaviour will be frowned upon. Although her being here on her own for an extended period of time isn’t something that’s looked well upon either.

Society is so stifling. She blinks, before shaking her head.

“Excuse me.” A voice breaks through Aziraphale’s thoughts, and both she and the lord of the house looks up to see a maid enter with a tray with tea and biscuits.

“I’ll leave you to it, then, Lady Fell.” Crowley says and Aziraphale blinks again, staring as he bows his head to her and leaves the library. Aziraphale feels a bit crestfallen, but then she shakes her head a second time. Crowley is a friend and business associate of Gabriel, and while she enjoys his company, that is the extent of it all, isn’t it? He lets her come to his library out of a kindness, nothing more. The blonde thinks that Crowley is very handsome, courteous and kind.

She also thinks she’s read too many novels where the main genre is romance.

So she sits down, enjoys her tea and biscuits, before picking up her chosen book and changes it for another, then she leaves the estate, asking the butler to give the lord of the house her thanks.

That night, Aziraphale finds herself reading a book full of sorrowful poems. They do not improve her mood.

* * *

Crowley’s pace is quick, from the library to his chambers. He both curses and congratulates himself on not going to bed the moment he returned this morning, just before the sun rose. Cursing himself because he is exhausted, congratulating himself because by forcing himself to stay awake, he managed to see Aziraphale during her quest for a new book. The lady is absolutely adorable when she blocks out the world and wanders his library, looking for new texts to lose herself in. Adorable and gorgeous.

While he still finds parties insufferable, they’re easier to attend now that he has something to look forward to during them. To be in the presence of the lovely lady. Crowley doesn’t know much about Aziraphale’s situation, why she’s staying with her cousin, only what she has deigned to tell him on her own, and that Gabriel is her legal guardian now, most likely for a long time too, but neither of them have told him why. And he hasn’t pried, because it is none of his business, but it’s not hard to deduce why she is here, in London. Her family has sent her off to have Gabriel find her a husband. It’s the same old rhyme.

A thought that irks the redhead. Crowley stops for a second to think once he closes the doors behind him. Gabriel has never once mentioned that Aziraphale is actually seeking to get married, and Crowley would like to think that if she is, he’d be offered a hint. After all, he and Gabriel get on rather well. Then again, Gabriel also knows how to respect women and their choices, courtesy of Beelzebub. Terrifying person, that.

For all Crowley knows, Aziraphale might not want to be married to anyone. She’s never spoken of it, and seems content enough with a good book in her hands. He rubs his face, groaning at how he has worked himself up into a gloomy mood. He calls for a servant, and tells them to come wake him after an hour and a half has passed. He’s exhausted, and gloomy, he needs a nap. He hopes he’ll feel better when he wakes up. As it turns out… He fells worse.


	5. Her Distress

Aziraphale is rather uncomfortable in this situation she finds herself in. She’s known in London’s circles as Gabriel’s cousin, and she’s made friends amongst the other ladies and can stand with them without needing Gabriel at her side anymore. This way Gabriel can move around with his associates and friends without any hindrances. Because Aziraphale knows full well that she can be a hindrance. Her father has told her so many times.

Usually it all goes without a hitch, with Aziraphale enjoying pleasant, if not a bit dull, conversations with the ladies, politely accept any gentleman’s request for a dance, as is expected of her, and then carefully avoid any chance of a second request from the same gentleman. Especially from men who hint for something more. Nothing indecent, just not any proposals she is interested in. Because Gabriel told her it is okay to want to be free.

And tonight seems to be a very unfortunate evening for her. It started as normal, but there is this one gentleman who just won’t leave her alone, Gabriel is nowhere to be seen and Crowley has yet to arrive. The last part saddens her a bit. He’s been gone for so long and she’s looked forward to being able to speak with him properly. But now she is stuck with a man who does not seem to understand that she wants to get away from him. He isn’t an unpleasant man; he just doesn’t take any polite hints she offers him. She has tried to lose him as she moves around in the crowd, but she’s quickly realizing that it isn’t working, and she _still_ cannot find Gabriel.

_‘Oh dear.’_ She thinks as she turns her head this way and that, before making one last attempt at losing the man in the crowds. She is a fool to think she’d succeed in her second attempt, and by the time she realizes that she has backed herself into a literal vacant corner in the room, where no one can see her plight, it’s too late.

“If you wanted privacy, my lady, all you had to do was say so.” Aziraphale nearly sighs in relief, thinking for a second that the man understands, that he understands that she wants to be left alone, that she does not fancy his attentions, but the smug smile on his face tells her otherwise. He’s misunderstood completely, and Aziraphale is mortified that the man thinks that _this_ is her intention by moving here. Tears burn her eyes as she flinches back, the drumming in her ears blocking out the man’s voice as her anxiety rises. This party is no longer enjoyable and she wants to go home-

“You seem to be bothering the lady.” A voice speaks up and the man cornering her turns around with a frown, which quickly slips off his face at the sight of Crowley standing tall and intimidating behind him, brows furrowed behind his coloured shades. It’s not hard to see that he is quite displeased with the whole situation.

“Lord Ecclestone is looking to have his lady cousin back.” Crowley says and the man nods, bowing his head to Aziraphale and hurriedly leaving. Relief floods Aziraphale, to the point the tears do actually escape, thankfully only a few of them, and she manages to keep from outright sobbing in relief. A handkerchief is held out for her and she accepts it, quickly but carefully dabbing at her eyes and cheeks, hoping she isn’t making too much of a mess of herself.

“T-Thank you.” She says quietly and Crowley nods, looking her over to make sure there are no physical marks on her. After all, she is quite distraught.

“Are you alright, Lady Fell?” The man asks and the blonde nods.

“I am now.” She beams watery up at him, and blinks at the slight flush to his cheeks.

“Glad to be of service.” Crowley finally coughs. “What did he do to cause you such distress?” He asks, sounding quite sincere in his quest for an answer so Aziraphale answers the best she can without trying to upset herself even more than she already is.

“Oh, he, um, he thought I sought out a spot for, um, well… I wanted to get away, he thought it and invitation for… indecency.” The more she says, the more upset she feels again, and it must have shown, because Crowley holds out an arm for her to hold on to.

“Shall I help you find Lord Ecclestone then?” Aziraphale blinks at Crowley in confusion. Is that not why he had sent the other man on his way, because Gabriel was looking for her? As if reading her thoughts, Crowley explains.

“You seemed distressed, so I lied to tell him off.” A part of Aziraphale is aghast that Crowley had lied to someone that easily even if it had been a rather innocent lie in the grand scheme of things. The other part of her finds it so sweet that he had come to her rescue, like a knight in shining armour. Well, dark armour, considering the colours of his clothing, but who cares about semantics? With a sniffle, she accepts his arm, and lets herself be led through the throngs of people again.

“I thought you came after having spoken with Gabriel.” Aziraphale says, having composed herself a bit before their walk. She also feels much safer now than earlier.

“I’m afraid I only just arrived.” Crowley says and she looks up at him in surprise.

“Only just now?”

“Yes, a pressing matter happened to be needing to be dealt with before I could come.” He tells her, grimacing a bit before he turns. Aziraphale soon spots Gabriel and feels relief at the sight of him. As long as she stands beside him, she will be left alone. Though in all reality, she wants to return home, get out of this dress and sink into the soft comforts of her bed.

“Ah, Lord Crowley, we were afraid you wouldn’t join us this evening!” The host says boisterously, causing Aziraphale to flinch. Gabriel notices and raises a brow questioningly, following when Crowley gently untangles Aziraphale’s hand from his arm and motions for the other man to follow. They stand a bit to the side, and speak quietly enough for Aziraphale to be unable to pick up on their words, but she can see the range of expressions crossing Gabriel’s face, from confusion to anger, to worry to gratitude as he claps Crowley’s shoulder before he moves back to Aziraphale.

“Do you want to leave?” She nods, lower lip wobbling as her cousin gently pulls her with him. She glances at Crowley as they pass him and she hesitates, because she has so looked forward to this evening, and now it is ending without her having been able to enjoy it. The redhaired man smiles at her.

“I will see you later, Lady Fell.” He reassures her quietly, and she nods, giving him a silent thank you once again before moving on. Once inside the carriage, Aziraphales’s exterior begins to crumble, but Gabriel squeezes her hands.

“I’m so sorry, Aziraphale. I’ll make sure this never happens again.” He tells her, and while she believes that he truly will do his best to avoid her “experiencing” such a thing again, there’s one problem.

“As long as I remain unmarried, it will.” And that is such a terrifying thing to know.


	6. His Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale feels down after what happened. Then it's a good thing that Crowley has found a first-edition of a book, right?

Aziraphale has been in a slump ever since that evening, though she has been going out for any tea-party she has been invited to by ladies in her circle of friends. She doesn’t appear very enthusiastic about the prospect each and every time. It worries Gabriel, and one evening, during dinner, he pulls up a subject Aziraphale is not particularly fond of, and not one he wanted to bring up either. Because he has promised Aziraphale he wouldn’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want. But Aziraphale had said it herself that evening in the carriage. As long as she remains unmarried, such a thing might happen again.

“I told you that I won’t actively look for a husband for you unless you yourself specifically asked for it.” Aziraphale looks down at her plate just moving her food around, which is a disconcerting sight in itself. It had taken weeks before Aziraphale had seemed confident enough to eat properly, and now she seems to be back to that place again, in which she seems cornered and unable to be herself.

“And I meant it, Aziraphale.” Using her name makes her look up at him, and it makes him feel a little bit better. “I won’t do it, unless you ask, but you were right, that evening. As long as you’re unmarried, men will try to court you.”

“What he did was _not_ courting!” She snaps. “It was making indecent and frankly offending assumptions about me.” Gabriel is almost relieved to see her angry. It shows more of a spark than he’s seen in her in days.

“Yes, extremely so. And I’ve had a talk with the man, _and_ his family, saying we will not stand for such treatment. He received the message loud and clear, they know now not to push any boundaries. I just want you to think about it for a bit. And if you decide to try, I will have a set of rules set in place, for your comfort. No one will make you uncomfortable again.” She mulls over this during the rest of their breakfast, and once done, she puts down her cutlery.

“I… I need to think about it. May I be excused?” He nods, knowing better than to push her, and watches as she leaves. That went much better than he had expected. Now, he will just have to wait, and for the next party or two, he knows that if Aziraphale has not come to a conclusion, she might be staying at the estate, just for her own comfort. And that will also be her choice. But there is no other way to conclude that what had started out as pleasant stay for Aziraphale in London, has now turned quite sour. And it is going to be quite the headache for Gabriel Ecclestone. He just knows it.

Five days pass before Aziraphale comes to any decision, but on the fifth day, by tea-time, Crowley stops by with a book for Aziraphale, one he has newly acquired. It seems to do the trick. She beams at him and engages him in small talk.

“How are you, Lady Fell?”

“Much better, thank you for asking. Where did you find this?”

”Oh, well, I was passing by the bookstore on the way here, and I thought maybe I could find something to cheer you up with.” And she looks so happy he nearly blurts out what he intends to speak about with Gabriel first. Thankfully the dark-haired man arrives before he can do or say anything stupid, and Aziraphale excuses herself from the men’s company to read the book he brought her. Crowley and Gabriel retreats to the dark-haired man’s office the moment she’s gone, the servants coming in with two cups of tea for them to enjoy as they converse.

“Thank you for that, Lord Crowley.” Gabriel says the moment they’ve both taken a seat and gotten comfortable.

“For what?” The redhead asks.

“She’s been in a terrible mood since the party. It’s obvious why, but I haven’t been able to change it. I fear I might have made it worse, really.”

“How so?” Crowley asks, curious. Aziraphale seemed as she always has been when he entered the estate, bright and nearly glowing. What has Gabriel done to remove any cheer?

“What happened at the party, it’s because she is unmarried. And until she is, married that is, this will most likely happen again. Someone will press their luck, and leave her an anxious mess. I told her I wouldn’t force her into anything, but she’s no fool. She knows I’m right, she said so herself.”

“Lady Fell has no wish to marry, then?” Crowley asks, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. His thought that this truly was the case returns to him, and he feel his previous gloomy mood make a rather quick and unwelcome comeback. There won’t be much point in staying if that is the case, and if so, Crowley will have to make a quick excuse for coming over.

“She doesn’t want to be anyone’s trophy wife. She wants to marry someone who wants her for her.” Crowley can do that, oh can most _certainly_ do that. Easily. If that is the only thing she wants, if that is the minimum requirement, then he can _most definitively_ do that. It’s not even that much to ask, really. Crowley had thought there would be some sky-high expectations, but Aziraphale is basically just asking for respect, and by everything good and holy in the world, that is _simple._

“And if she should find such a person?” Crowley hopes Gabriel won’t pick up on the hopefulness he knows he failed to keep out of his voice. The man shrugs.

“Then he’d best show himself rather bloody quickly!” The language shows Crowley that the man is rather put-off by the situation, and he weighs his options. Either he’ll offend Gabriel, or Gabriel will offend him. Both of these outcomes will end with him not seeing Aziraphale ever again, which, in retrospect, sounds absolutely horrible.

But by Somebody, he _wants_ to ask.

“If I may, Lord Ecclestone.” He begins carefully, straightening up in his seat, already feeling his hands becoming clammy and resisting the urge to wipe his hands on his trousers.

“This may sound a bit presumptuous then, but I wish to acquire your permission to ask the Lady Fell if I can court her. Proper courting, not whatever it is the gentleman at the party did.” Crowley waits for Gabriel’s reaction, but the man is just staring at him, his tea-cup held up to his lips, but frozen there. It takes a few moments before Gabriel realizes he is just staring, and he deposits his cup in its saucer on his desk, folding his hands upon said furniture, taking a deep breath.

“You want to ask for _my_ permission to as for my cousin’s permission?”

“Yes.” Crowley nods and watches as Gabriel’s surprise fades and he narrows his eyes at him. Here is where it can become very tricky.

“And for _how_ long have you been thinking about this?”

“I didn’t ask earlier because you never said she was looking for any suitors, but I had hoped to breach the subject at the party, not that a proper chance ever happened with me arriving so late and after Lady Fell was harassed in such a way.” The other man admits, and that is telling enough for how long he’s been wanting to ask. He’d hoped to learn whether or not a courtship was in the cards, if that is something Aziraphale will be amendable to. But considering the state he had found the lady in he just couldn’t ask her right then. It was neither appropriate nor wise at the time. Even now it might be too early, and he’s not speaking with the shaken lady herself this time, but her cousin. Her very protective cousin.

“I know that it is, perhaps, too early even now to ask after what happened, but my intentions are honourable, my affections sincere-“ Crowley begins but is cut off as Gabriel falls back in his seat.

“Yes, you have my permission.” Crowley gapes and stares for many long seconds before he remembers how to articulate words.

“Pardon?”

“You have my permission to ask Aziraphale.” There’s a silence before Crowley clears his throat, relaxing just a little bit.

“I’ll admit, I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Well, over the course of the last three, or what, four months, you’ve shown that you are fully capable of treating her with the respect she deserves. And I know you well enough. But you’ll still have to ask Aziraphale, because it is her answer that matters, here.” That is indeed true. Crowley hopes the lady will find it in her to give him a chance. He won’t force the issue if she says no, but he hopes she feels comfortable enough to at least consider it. Gabriel raises a brow at him.

“Well?” The man asks. “Aren’t you going?”

“Right.” Crowley rises from his seat. “Right. Where might she be enjoying the book?”

“The library, I’d think.” Crowley nods, tries to ignore the smirk on Gabriel’s face as he leaves the office. He has a feeling the man is both teasing and testing him, and that is… well it’s not exactly very comforting, but none of that matters right now anyway. Because none of this will matter much if Aziraphale rejects his request. He heads to the library in the estate, finding there to be a lot more books there than he can originally remember there being, and sees the lady herself sitting in a comfortable looking chair, a teacup on the table, completely engrossed in the book he’s given her. He stands in the doorway for a few moments, not only because he finds the view of her looking so captivated by something he gave her as a gift a gorgeous thing to behold, but also to gather his courage, which has rather quickly drained from him the moment he began to close in on the library. He takes a deep breath before he moves in to stand before her.

“Is it to your liking, Lady Fell?” She looks up and smiles brightly at him and having such a joyful smile directed at him is doing something to his insides.

“Oh yes, thank you so much, Lord Crowley. It’s an absolute delight.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” His throat suddenly seems so very dry, and he swallows a couple of times, feeling more nervous the longer he holds the lovely lady’s attention. What if he’s making a fool out of himself? What if Aziraphale rejects him, and proceeds to ignore him from this moment on? Such fears bounce around in his mind for a moment, before he forces them away. Aziraphale is not that kind of a person, so he gathers himself and speaks up.

“I wish to ask you something, and I hope you won’t take offense.” Her brows furrow in confusion, but she quickly realizes, as he says no more, that he won’t ask her anything before she agrees to hear him out, so she marks her page and rests the book in her lap, nodding. Right, now or never, Crowley thinks as he pulls his coloured lenses off from the bridge of his nose, pocketing them. He’s never actually walked about without them in front of her before, and he feels awfully vulnerable. Thankfully she does not comment on their odd colour, she just seems curious about what it is he has to say, though her own blue orbs did widen a bit at the sight of his yellow ones.

“I want to ask if you’d accept being courted by me.” Her eyes widen to the size of saucers and she stares at him in absolute bewilderment, and Crowley, ever the wordsmith (not really) finds himself blurting out words he has no control over.

“I know it might be too soon after what happened and you might not even want my attentions, but I wanted to ask because I enjoy being around you and talking to you, and I like seeing you wander through my library and…” He trails off, noticing how the lady’s cheeks have turned pink, and that she still seems as dumbstruck as she had when he first said he wanted to court her.

“I… Just wanted to say… that.” Crowley isn’t particularly good with words, not in situations like these, not with words related to emotions and feelings. It’s never bothered him before now, standing before a well-read and eloquent woman whom he’d very much like to court. She looks down in her lap, before very slowly lifting the book up, partly covering her face with it, so that he can only see her eyes peek up at him.

“Is… Is this book a courting gift?” He blinks at her question, and wonders if she’ll throw the book at him for his audacity if he says it is. He decides to test the waters.

“Er, yes? If you want it to be?” There’s a moment where he waits for her to either accept, or tell him to be on his way, and when she lowers the book, she is smiling shyly up at him. He feels his heart rise and become stuck in his throat.

“I’m not opposed.” Aziraphale says quietly.

“No?” Crowley can’t believe it, even if this is what he has been hoping for.

“Mhm. I’d… I’d very much enjoy your attention, I think.” Aziraphale says and Crowley nods.

“Alright… Alright, can I sit?” He asks and she gestures for the seat opposite of her and he sinks into it. He’s quiet for a long time, and Aziraphale fidgets.

“Was that wrong?”

“What?” Crowley blinks, before realizing what she means. “No! No, no, I just… I, er, I worried I was being too forward, that it was inappropriate considering what, er, happened.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale breathes, looking down in her lap again before reaching for her cup and straightening her posture a bit, and Crowley wonders if he should have kept his mouth shut.

“Considering you saved me from that man and have shown me enough consideration and respect to the point I rather enjoy our talks and look forward to more, I’d say it’s not inappropriate.”

“So I’m in your good graces then?” He makes an attempt at a joke, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird in his chest at the sight of her eyes crinkling like that in amusement, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

“You gave me free access to your library, Lord Crowley. You were in my good graces already then.”

“I see, I see. And if I keep bringing you first-editions like that one?” He asks, gesturing to the book he gave her earlier.

“Might as well just buy me a ring, Lord Crowley.” She says, then there’s a pause and her cheeks flush red by her own daring outburst, and Crowley laughs. Loudly.

“I’m sorry-“

“No, no, don’t be!” He reigns himself in, leaning back in his chair, shaking with barely controlled chuckles. Aziraphale still feels embarrassed for what she said so Crowley takes pity on her, telling her that in all honesty, even though he had hoped for a positive answer for his request, he had been prepared to go home with rejection hanging over his shoulders.

“How so?”

“Never once has your cousin hinted at you being interested in a suitor, so I came her half-expecting to be shown out.” Aziraphale laughs as well now, though it’s tinted with a bit of nervousness.

“Well, um…” She avoids eye contact with him, avoids looking at anything for more than a second at a time, really. She looks a bit uncomfortable now, so he drops the subject and instead he tells her he is happy she is giving him a chance to get to know her better, a chance to properly show her that he does indeed care for her. She looks so very pleased to hear it, cradling the cup in both hands now, and he finds himself still in awe that she can be such a bright person, as if she truly does light up a room by just being in it. It’s such terrible poetry on his part, he knows that, but it is real to him too.

“A chance?” She echoes. “You’re not expecting this to end in your favour?” Every man who has made an attempt at courting Aziraphale has done so expecting her to fall at their feet and accept their proposals at the end of it, and while Crowley has shown himself to be a quite charismatic, decent and understanding fellow, she expected him too to think of her accepting his request as a victory.

“I expect nothing more than what you’re willing to share with me, Lady Fell.”


	7. Her Heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in advance, going to say sorry

Being courted by Anthony J. Crowley has so far been a very pleasant experience. He takes her out to lunch at least three times a week as far as his schedule allows, their Arrangement of her having access to his library still stands (in which she often stays to have tea with him and get to know each other a bit better), as well as them taking walks in St. James’ Park, feeding the ducks. There’s nothing grand about the gestures, there are no great, big, sparkly or lavish gifts that costs a fortune which Aziraphale is sure is more the norm, but to the blonde these gestures means more to her than any gifts he’ll ever give her. Him taking her to lunch, on walks, feeding the ducks with her, it all shows that he wants to spend time with her, enjoys it even. It gives her confidence.

There are times he has to leave, business and work and such things, but he sends her letters when he’s gone. He’s not great at words and he is certainly no poet. The letters are short, but Aziraphale finds herself going from enjoying the thought of him taking the time to write to her, to treasuring each and every one of the letters he sends. And when he returns, she almost runs him down every time when he enters through the doors. Each and every time, and it seems as if he greatly appreciates such greetings.

The letters often contains questions of how she’s doing, what kind of books she has borrowed and is reading right now, what she’s been doing while he’s gone, how much he enjoyed hearing from her in her own responses, that there is something that reminded him of her and he wants to tell her when he gets back.

He’s gone again now, but according to his letters he’ll be back by the next event hosted by Gabriel’ friends, the Ashworth’s. He looks forward to see her again after such a long time apart, the letter says. Gabriel comments on her voluntary grips to the tailor teasingly, and she huffs. While it’s true that she’d rather go to a bookshop than the tailor, which is not a statement about Dagon’s skills because they are incredible at what they do, she has to make an effort now. Or rather, she _wants_ to make a proper effort now. This time it feels worth it. Instead of telling him all this, she instead asks him something she’s been worried about for a while, a nagging thought in the back of her head she has dreaded to hear the answer to. Has Gabriel told her father?

“He sends letters, wanting to know how the process is going.” Gabriel says. The _process_ is Gabriel’s search for a husband for Aziraphale, a search that has not even started yet, a search that would never have actually started. Aziraphale knows this much.

“But I have not told him, no. You’re my charge, he gave me the responsibility of taking care of you. I’m not telling him anything until you say I can.” Because that offers her comfort, it makes her feel safe, that she has a choice of her own. And that is how Gabriel will take care of her, by letting her make her own choices and feel in charge. And Aziraphale is incredibly grateful for that. While she greatly enjoys Crowley courting her, even if she looks forward to seeing him and is attracted to him, she doesn’t want to have her father breathing down her neck if it ends like every other suitor she’s ever had. She’s not sure she can take listening to how disappointed he is with her one more time.

Because she has heard that all the time back home. Aziraphale also knows she’s fortunate in that her father sent to Gabriel instead of just marrying her off to one of his associates. Especially since he’s threatened her with such before, and the very last thing she wants is that. But as it is now, she believes she will be happy with Crowley, should this courtship end with marriage. He’s sweet, kind, honest, clever, easy to speak with, someone who respects her and her wishes. She won’t just be a woman on his arm, a wife for the sake of having one to fulfil her duties. And while they’ve only known each other for five months, she honestly believes that Crowley’s affections for her are real.

And as such, she is very much looking forward to the party at the Ashworth’s, especially after Crowley’s last letter, which ended with him telling her he would be bringing someone he really wants her to meet. The blonde is excited for that, tries needling Gabriel for information, though all he says is that Aziraphale is most likely going to get along with said person, which reveals that he does know who it is they’re talking about. It just makes her wonder even more, and when the night is upon them, she makes a great effort with her appearance, aiming to impress whoever it is that Crowley will bring along. If it is someone Crowley holds in high regard, she must look proper, and worth Crowley’s attention.

So with her hair braided tight and prettily wound back to expose her face properly, her cream coloured dress fitting her nicely and a dainty, dark red bow holding her hair back, she waits on Gabriel’s arm as she’s being led inside the venue. Aziraphale does a rather poor job of hiding her excitement, though that might be because she’s not really making much of an attempt at all.

“Come now, Aziraphale.” Gabriel nearly laughs at how he is pulled along by a very excited cousin of his.

“It’s not as if he’ll disappear into a puff of smoke if we’re not in by the next ten seconds.”

“You never know with Lord Crowley.” Aziraphale quips and Gabriel just laughs again. They head inside, and Aziraphale scans the groups of people for red hair and darkened clothing. It doesn’t take her long, and she nearly dashes forward, excited to finally see Crowley again, only to stop short at the sight of the gorgeous woman on Crowley’s arm, dressed in his signature colours.


	8. His Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Lou, tricked youuu. But there is angst in here, somewhere, I promise

Aziraphale had believed. She had faith, believed, finally thought she could stop being a disappointed to her family, and being able to be happy herself, to be truly cared for and loved. She had truly believed in Crowley and his gestures, which had all seemed so sincere, so true. But perhaps it had all seemed so sincere because she wanted to believe that they were? Perhaps she was the only one who enjoyed the long walks in the park, perhaps she was the only one who enjoyed the lunches? Crowley rarely ate much when they went out together, so perhaps it truly is so. Perhaps he just humoured her to string her along?

She feels like an utter fool now, and all she wants to do is to disappear before she’s made into a laughingstock, but Gabriel, to her confusion, pushes forward, appearing not to notice Aziraphale’s sudden distress, and even almost looks pleased. And what a horrible thing that is to witness, when she had put so much trust in him. She had trusted him to keep her safe and happy.

“Lord Crowley, Lady Crowley!” And that just seems to be the final nail in the coffin, doesn’t it? But how can Gabriel be so happy about it? Has she no true friends, no allies? No one she can trust?

“Ah, Lord Ecclestone, Lady Fell!” Aziraphale wants to throw something at Crowley’s smiling face, to stop that smug face from rubbing more salt in an already festering wound, but that would not be very lady like of her, and as such, she stands with as straight a back as she can, hoping she can save some of her dignity once this charade is over.

“Lord Ecclestone, it’s been quite some time.” The Lady Crowley says politely, a small smile on her face. And Aziraphale barely manages to reign in a thought of how she wants to see the woman trip over her skirts and make a right embarrassed mess of herself. Even through her jealousy she is horrified of her own thoughts.

“Indeed. How is Lord Morningstar?”

“Oh, same old, same old, but I’m not here to talk about my cousin, I’m here to meet the Lady Fell whom my brother is swooning over.” Crowley chokes on a response, looking positively horrified by the blonde’s careless statement and Aziraphale blinks.

Brother?

And then Aziraphale properly looks at the other lady in front of her. She is blonde, though the shade of her hair is much darker than Aziraphale’s own, almost a bit reddish. She is also quite young, her skin pale and full of freckles, and her eyes-

Aziraphale’s breath hitches in her chest. Golden, much like Crowley’s own, except a bit darker, almost the colour of a sunset. Suddenly the resemblance is so obvious, and Aziraphale feels horrible, absolutely terrible, downright distraught by her own jealousy. She is ashamed of herself and forces herself to listen as Crowley introduces his sister, Babylon, to the woman whose affections he seeks.

And he has them, he well and truly has them, all of them, all of her heart. And oh she wants so desperately to tell him so, even as she plants a smile on her face and lets herself be led away by the much younger woman, by Crowley’s younger sibling, leaving the two gentlemen to their business. She wants to stay with Crowley, talk with Crowley, but it would be rude to reject the other woman, especially since this person is the one that Crowley had looked forward to introducing her too.

“I’m sorry.” Babylon says once they’ve created some distance. “I’m sure you’ve looked forward to tonight, to seeing my brother again, as he has you, m’lady, but I’m very curious about the Lady Fell he’s been waxing poetics about. Which is, frankly, a bit annoying seeing as he’s absolute rubbish at the finer arts.” Babylon grins something sharp at Aziraphale, and the older blonde blinks. Babylon’s way of speech is somewhat off, like she’s attempting very hard at sounding polite. Aziraphale has never met a noble lady who has not perfected the art of being hostile or condescending without sounding perfectly polite. Babylon’s grin dampens.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Obviously it’s _something_. Is it my speech? It _is_ my speech, isn’t it? Hastur’s always made fun of me for that.” Aziraphale has no idea who this Hastur fellow is, but she’s not about to offend Crowley’s sister.

“Oh no, nothing wrong with your speech, my dear. I’m terribly sorry, but oh, but Lord Crowley never told me he had siblings.” Aziraphale feels horrible just saying it, considering Crowley has apparently told Babylon all about her, but it is the truth, and Aziraphale is not a liar, and especially not good at acting. The other blonde simply laughs.

“Didn’t expect that he had. I’ve been living with our cousin for the last two years. I’m a bit of a pariah here.”

“How so?” Babylon grins that sharp grin again, and Aziraphale marvels at how she resembles her brother so much yet not, at the same time.

“How about you come over tomorrow for some tea, and I’ll tell you all about me.” The blonde looks up and dons a mildly offended expression. “Especially as my own brother has told you absolutely nothing. It’s like I never existed.” And Aziraphale turns around to see Crowley standing there, appearing quite sheepish.

“Yes, well, I had things to do-“ He tries to make up an excuse but his sister sees straight through him, not appearing impressed at all.

“You could have mentioned me at least once.” There’s a silence before Crowley turns his attention towards Aziraphale and Babylon looks very tempted to throw her hands in the air in sheer annoyance.

“Will you walk with me?” And how can she do anything but agree? She tells Babylon that she will be absolutely delighted to join her for tea the next day, before she grabs hold of the arm Crowley is offering her. Babylon stays behind with Gabriel, asking about a “Beelzebub” which reminds Aziraphale that she has heard that name associated with Gabriel before, but never once asked the man who this mysterious person is. He pulls her out onto the dance floor as music starts playing.

“How have you been?” He asks her and she smiles brightly up at him. He says he likes her smiles, so she doesn’t hold back from showing them when they tug at her lips. 

“Well, I’ve been well, and looking forward to your return. I was curious about this person you wanted me to meet.” She admits as he twirls them both in the direction of a balcony.

“In hindsight,” Crowley begins, appearing a bit embarrassed, “I should have explained in my letters that I would bring along my sister. When we arrived, I worried that for a moment you’d think me a dishonest wretch, Babylon pointed that out when I let it slip I had never told you I have siblings. I’m glad I was wrong.” He says, stealing a small glance to make sure that they don’t bump into anyone. Aziraphale has never been much of a graceful dancer, but she doesn’t notice any of her old clumsiness and perhaps that is because Crowley seem so confident in his leading of their dance, and she is confident in the thought that he won’t let he embarrass herself. The wonderful feeling of floating doesn’t dispel the shame of her earlier jealousy, and the horrible thoughts she had entertained for those few moments before everything was made clear for her. As mentioned before, Aziraphale is a terrible liar, and honesty is etched into her bones.

“I did, actually, take it the wrong way when I saw you.” She admits and he looks down at her. “But you see, I saw a beautiful young woman in your colours on your arm.” She rushes to explain herself. Aziraphale has been burned many times, but that is no excuse, now is it?

“And I truly felt a fool for having thought that I, for once, was appreciated for me.” They’ve drifted to the very edge of the ballroom now, right by that balcony Crowley spied earlier and has intentionally moved them closer to, but he stops dancing when he hears that and Aziraphale resists the urge to squirm, to tell him to remove the infernal spectacles so she can see him properly, can see what he’s thinking instead of standing at the very edge of the ballroom, feeling like a fool. Before she does crack, he leads her outside. The balcony gives a lovely view of the garden outside, but neither pays it much attention right now. Aziraphale already feels her cheeks burn at her own words, and Crowley is frowning.

“What do you mean you felt a fool for having thought I appreciated you for you?” His voice is both sharp and soft at once, trying not to upset her, but wanting the truth of it.

“Oh, no I’d feel like a fool.” Aziraphale says quietly, though she already does.

“Please, Aziraphale.” And that jolts the woman. Never has either of them abandoned their proper politeness in referring to each other in what is considered the proper way for people not related or wed to each other, but _oh_ she likes the way he speaks her name. Crowley looks worried, and he clasps both her hands in his own in a comforting manner, trying to coax her into telling him.

“What bothers you? Please tell me.” And she can’t hold it back. The words come bubbling up her throat and out of her mouth before she can even think to stop them.

“I’ve always been a disappointment.” She feels tears gather in her eyes and it takes a great amount of effort to keep them from falling. She can’t stop the words now, they’re coming whether she likes it or not, but she won’t let the tears fall.

“And for just a moment I thought I’d be so again, and after having felt so wonderful as I have lately with you, being with you, talking with you, spending so much time getting to know you and you me and you seeming to accept who I am as a person, it… I’ve never felt this good about myself, and it just seemed like, for a moment, that I’d played myself a fool. Again.” It’s a lot, and she bites her lower lip to stop herself from saying anything more. One of his hands releases her to carefully wipe away that one tear that spills over, and she breathes in deep to keep herself from crumbling.

“Oh angel.” And the endearment is so soft, unexpected but not unwelcome. “Whoever said you were a disappointment doesn’t understand how wonderful you are. There now, no tears.” But it’s even harder to keep them from falling when he speaks to her like she’s something incredibly precious, like something he’d cradle in his arms and keep safe.

“Aziraphale.” She looks up, sees him pocketing his glasses. “I planned to ask you, tonight, to bring out a ring and hopefully sliding it onto your hand. Can I do that now?” She blinks, surprised and not quite sure what he is talking about at first, but once it does dawn on her, she nods slowly. And the man pulls out a small box from his pocket as he kneels.

She knows what is about to happen, yet she’s still so excited to see it actually happening. She barely hears his words over the blood pounding in her ears. She wanted this to happen, and now it is.

“Lady Aziraphale Fell, would you do me the greatest honour of becoming my wife? Would you allow me to cherish you, love you, protect you and treat you the way you deserve?” And it’s such a sweet thing, to be offered these words from this man, words she’s read about in romantic novels and poems, but never expected to have directed at herself. And even though he had given her a slight warning, given her the chance of not letting this happen tonight when she had just felt so down with herself, she’s still so overwhelmed.

All she can do is hold out her gloved hand and nod, breath catching in her throat. Crowley carefully grabs her hand and slips the ring on. There’s suddenly applause from the inside and both look up to see the guests within sight clap with smiles on their faces. Gabriel and Babylon stand at the front, Gabriel looking proud and Babylon extremely pleased. This time Aziraphale can’t quite stop the tears from escaping, but their meaning is different now.

“I promise I will do everything within my power to make you happy.” He says quietly, one hand cupping her cheek as he stands up.

“I believe you.” Aziraphale replies just as quietly, letting herself be guided back inside.


	9. Her Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> scumbag incoming, Lou

It all feels like a dream to Aziraphale when she wakes up the next morning. Her maids wash and dresses her, all while congratulating her on her engagement. Having them speak of it solidifies it for her, and she beams all the way through breakfast and her carriage ride to the Crowley estate, where she is enthusiastically greeted by Babylon, who embraces her warmly.

“Welcome, Aziraphale!” She exclaims and Aziraphale is yet again struck by how odd Babylon’s speech is.

“Thank you.” The lighter blonde says, returning the embrace and not finding it in her to comment on the oddity.

“My brother is occupied right now, but I’m sure he’ll join us later, which I imagine will please you.” There’s a hint of teasing in Babylon’s voice, but Aziraphale can’t stop smiling anyways. There’s no malice in Babylon’s voice, only happy mischief. Aziraphale doesn’t know this woman well as they only just met last night, but she hopes that today they can begin to form a closer relationship. After all, this is her betrothed’s younger sister, they will be family. And Babylon shares the same sentiment. During their tea, Babylon tells Aziraphale about herself, and it is not something the other blonde could ever have imagined.

A daughter out of wedlock, from a mistress. The last act of their father was to legitimize her after Crowley found out about her. The man had apparently raised quite a fuss when he had found out their father had kept a mistress on the side, but instead of having the man cut all contact and act as if the girl did not exist, he had demanded that his father took responsibility. Learning of all of this just makes Aziraphale surer about accepting Crowley’s proposal.

“As such, I was brought here at the age of eleven, and I stayed here permanently until our cousin and his wife had their first son. Then I alternated between here and at his estate, helping with raising the little one. His wife never had the best health, and two years ago she passed away. I’ve stayed there permanently since then, helping Lucifer out as much as I can. Once the boy is old enough, I am to be his governess, so we think it’s best he’s comfortable around me.” That explains the speech patterns, that she was not raised from the beginning to be what is called a lady of high standing. It’s a rather heart-breaking tale though.

“The lad’s turning four soon. Lucifer will probably bring him with for your wedding. I wish I could stay here during all your preparations, both as support to you and to tease Anthony mercilessly, but I’ll have to go back soon. The boy can cause quite a stir when I’m not there.”

“He must love you dearly.” Aziraphale smiles at the fond look on Babylon’s face as she speaks of the little boy she’s helping raise.

“As much as I love him, I hope.” The other woman says with a wide grin. “Have you and Anthony discussed children?”

“It has come up, once or twice.” Aziraphale nods. The two have come across the subject a few times, but neither her nor Crowley had probed too much into it. She figured it would come up before he proposed, but it had not. She expects it will come quite soon though.

“Ah, well then I won’t probe into it either.” Just as Babylon says this, the door to the room they’re in open and Crowley enters.

“Perfect timing, brother.” Babylon says as she stands up from her seat. “This was lovely, Aziraphale, let’s do it again before I leave.”

“I’d be delighted.” Aziraphale says, gracing Babylon with a smile before the other woman leaves the two alone. At first, after taking a seat beside Aziraphale, both she and Crowley are silent for a while.

“I need your input.” Crowley says as he pulls off his coloured glasses.

“About?”

“Various things, but first, how are you, Aziraphale?” She wonders if her heart will keep skipping a beat every time he uses her name, even years from now.

“I’m well, thank you for asking.” She says and the corners of his mouth tug upwards in a small smile of his own.

“And you, Anthony?” A flush grace her skin as she says his given name out loud. They can do that now, and it’s thrilling. They are no longer Lord Crowley and Lady Fell, they’re Anthony and Aziraphale.

“I’m the happiest man alive at the moment.” The already pretty pink on her cheeks turn much darker and she giggles nervously.

“What did you wish to consult with me?”

“Our engagement, the wedding, what you’d like for it. Venue, food, drinks, guests.” She had not expected that. From what she has heard, all of that business is managed by the heads of each family. She had not been expected to be consulted on her wants and needs. But she should have, shouldn’t she? When has Crowley done anything but cater to her needs?

“I was thinking of using my garden as the venue. It’s certainly big enough, and it’s begun to bloom rather well, but I want to hear your opinion on it.”

“How about we take a walk through the garden and discuss it there? I’d very much like to see it.” And so they do, and a decision on a date is made once Aziraphale realizes how beautiful the garden really is, and how it will look when it’s in full bloom. It’s a quick thing, coming up soon and a small list of people they truly want there in either family is made, along with a mandatory list of Crowley’s associates and Aziraphale’s little ring of friends.

When she returns to Gabriel’s estate for dinner, he asks about her day and Aziraphale excitedly tells him everything that has been done that day with Crowley, and how they have already begun to prepare and have set a date.

“Hm, if everything is to be ready by then, we need to start preparing already. I’ll make an appointment with Dagon. Also, I need to ask this.” Gabriel begins and looks hesitant, and Aziraphale already knows what he is going to ask. Only one person makes Gabriel look so uncomfortable when the two of them are speaking.

“I wish to invite Michael.” She says. “And if she’s to come, then father will most certainly follow, but it’s okay now. So send word, Gabriel.” The man nods, telling her that he will send a letter by courier the next morning. They move to begin eating, just as a maid enters the dining room.

“Lord Ecclestone, a carriage has arrived.” Gabriel raises a brow, not expecting any guests, not at this time of the day, but stands up from his seat when they hear footsteps. Aziraphale freezes in place as she recognizes the heavy gait coming closer, and she cannot believe what is happening.

“Gabriel!” Her father’s voice booms and instinctively she feels herself shrink in her seat.

“Ah, hello, uncle.” Gabriel replies, voice strained. Michael appears behind the man, shooting them both apologetic looks. That scares Aziraphale more than anything.

“I’ve heard nothing about how your work with finding Aziraphale a suitable husband goes!”

“Right, yes, about that-“ Gabriel begins, and the worry and shame Aziraphale began feeling the moment her father entered the dining room disappears because she is now engaged to someone. She is about to be wed, to have a husband. Once her father learns this he will stop being so disappointed with her, won’t he? She feels relief fill her, and she turns to smile at at least Michael, but it fades from her lips when she sees the truly worried expression on Michael’s face.

“So I did my own little search and I have found a man willing to marry her. He’ll be here in a few days, and all she has to do is accept his proposal. I’ve given her enough chances, this time she _will_ accept.” Her father speaks as if Aziraphale isn’t even in the same room as them, and that infuriates her, but even more, it scares her. Because she can’t marry someone her father decided on, not now.

“I can’t do that!” She exclaims, standing up so fast her chair falls over in her haste, and her father finally deigns to look at her, raising an eyebrow, his expression darkening and becoming rather dangerous.

“You can and you will.” She knows that tone of voice, it’s the one warning her of his rising temper, the tone that reminds her of her place and to keep quiet. Her father has decided on something, and he will not allow her to disobey him again. But she has to.

“I won’t!” She amends, and Michael looks truly frightened now as their father begins to step forward, only to stop as Gabriel intervenes.

“What she means is that she is already engaged.”

“End it. I worked hard on getting Lord Sandalphon to agree, and my effort will not go to waste. There are a whole lot of benefits to her marrying him.” Her father’s words make a chill go down Aziraphale’s spine, and she feels even more distraught at the fact that even her having found someone to marry isn’t good enough for her father anymore. Her happiness is so easily taken away from her because her happiness isn’t important to him, only the profits he can make off of her, and he does this simply because he thinks he’s in the right. And in a way, he is. Daughters are married ff to someone of their father’s choosing, after all. But Aziraphale is her own person. And she can’t bear to be traded off to someone else.

“Lord Crowley is amongst the highest standing nobles in London. One does not just break off an agreement with him. He asked for your daughter’s hand in marriage and she accepted. Whoever this Lord Sandalphon is, whom you’ve promised your daughter to, they’ll pale compared to him.” Gabriel tries again, and finally seems to have the other man’s attention.

“Lord Crowley?”

“Yes, Lord Anthony J. Crowley. He has business connections all over England, and quite a few establishments in France. His blood is of the old sort, he’s the perfect match. You wanted her married to someone of high standing in society, and she accepted such a man’s proposal. If you force a break, I assure you, he will ruin you. He doesn’t take well to people going back on their promises.” Aziraphale watches Gabriel, thinking he’s laying it on a bit thick because her fiancée is quite the pleasant and respectful man, but she says absolutely nothing in worry that her father will drag her out, kicking and screaming.

“Really? I should like to meet this man.” And it isn’t because Aziraphale wants to be Crowley’s wife that Eugene Fell says this, it’s because he will not risk being ruined and have everything he owns taken from him.

“I’ll send a message for him in the morning. For now, why don’t we eat dinner?” Aziraphale has quite lost her appetite and excuses herself. She nearly runs from the room, already feeling herself starting to panic, her breaths come out in harsh, short puffs of air, tears nearly brimming over. She doesn’t quite get to her bed chambers before Michael catches up to her.

“Aziraphale!” The blonde turns around, watching her younger sister drop her skirts as she skids to a halt in front of her and clasps their hands carefully.

“I’m so sorry for this shock. I couldn’t get a warning out, he just had our things packed and ready before telling me we were leaving. He didn’t even tell me he had found a lord to marry you before we were halfway here.” And the blonde knows Michael speaks the truth, is truly sorry for what just happened.

“I was happy here, Michael. I found someone who cares about me, and now father will ruin it, like he ruins everything that makes me happy.” Her voice wavers, nearly cracking.

“He won’t.” Michael tries to placate her sister. “If this Lord Crowley is at all what Gabriel made him out to be, then father won’t dare.” And Aziraphale dearly hopes Michael is right.

“I… I’ve always been a disappointment in father’s eyes.” Aziraphale says quietly, before her eyes grow steely, and all traces of tears evaporates. “But I’ll put eternal shame on both him and this Lord Sandalphon if he takes this from me.” She says darkly and Michael’s eyes widen in shock. Never has she heard her older sister speak so darkly, and she embraces her tightly.

“We’ll ensure that it doesn’t happen.”

The next morning, Aziraphale feels none of the happiness she had woken up with the other day as the maids come to assist her, only dread for what today might bring, for facing her father. If the maids notice her sudden, downtrodden mood, they do not comment on it, thankfully. They do their duty only, and when it’s time to go eat her breakfast, the maids stop her. She blinks, and looks around, seeing that her personal handmaiden, Sonya, is nowhere to be seen, even though Aziraphale is sure she saw the maid enter with the others when they came to assist her. Is she really so out of it?

“Sonya is bringing your breakfast, my lady. Take a seat, it will be here shortly.” And the blonde feels such gratitude towards the maids she can’t help but pull them both into an embrace, much to their shock.

“Thank you.” She nearly sobs, and the maids pull back, giving her careful smiles.

“Of course, my lady. Is there anything else you need?”

“My sister, bring her here once she’s done with her breakfast, and please inform me if Lord Crowley comes by.” The maids nods just as Sonya enters the through the door with a platter filled with Aziraphale’s breakfast on it. Aziraphale feels a bit better, able to eat in peace an feels even better when Sonya returns with Michael, and news that Crowley is on his way. She feels relief at that, but also a small bout of fear. Around her father she must act subdued, only speak when spoken to, all things that Crowley certainly don’t associate with her. And as long as her father is here, she can’t read books. Because reading is only something the worthy are allowed to do.

And Aziraphale is a disappointment.

Michael is there walking with her down to the patio, where they will sit with the men and drink their tea, once Crowley arrives. She truly hopes this will end peacefully because she can’t let herself be married off to someone she neither knows nor cares about. She knows what her father thinks of women, what their purpose is. He may have shown love when they were his little girls, but right now they are grown women and should do as he says-

“Aziraphale.” The blonde blinks and she realizes she’s nearly hyperventilating, and Michael is rubbing her back, trying to help her calm down.

“Deep breaths.” The brunette murmurs.

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize. We’ll get you through this, and father will let it all go. Do not worry, this will go well.” Neither of them actually believes Michael’s words of comfort, but Aziraphale still nods and follows her sister, steeling herself. They take a small walk in the garden at Michael’s behest, as the younger of the two claims she’d like to see it properly before they get down to business, though Aziraphale is quite aware that it is an effort to keep her calm and take her mind off of what will happen. She is quite thankful for it. But then suddenly they are called back to the patio, and Aziraphale takes another deep breath before they head back.

Gabriel and Crowley are both already standing by the table, talking together. Gabriel looks harried, and Crowley nods along. Aziraphale can soon hear what they’re talking about, realizing that Gabriel is explaining the situation to Crowley. Before the two notice the women, Michael calls out.

“Gabriel.” The two look up, and a smile graces Crowley’s face when he sees Aziraphale, and that settles her nerves. She moves closer, allows him to lift her hand and press a kiss to the back of her hand. She smiles back.

“Aziraphale.”

“Anthony. This is my sister, Michael.” Aziraphale introduces the two, and Crowley bows his head, yet not relinquishing his hold on Aziraphale’s hand.

“A pleasure, Lady Fell.”

“Likewise, Lord Crowley.” Michael curtsies before standing ramrod straight. “You’ve been filled in on the situation at hand, I hope?” She asks and the redhead nods.

“Right. Father is a right bastard-“ Aziraphale gasps at her sister’s crude language, but the brunette carries on, “and the man he wants to marry her off to is an even bigger bastard. Please, show our father that you are the better option.”

“Of course.” Crowley says, and turns his full attention on Aziraphale as Michael grabs hold of Gabriel and mutters something to him.

“How are you feeling?” He asks her and Aziraphale’s smile wanes a bit.

“Not well. Once I know he’ll go away, I’ll be better. I’m so sorry to cause you so much trouble.”

“Do not worry about that, angel.” He tells her, before holding up a book for her to take. “I brought something to cheer you up.” He tells her and she brightens as she accepts it, riffling through the pages. A collection of wonderful poems.

“Thank you.” She is thankful for this, it will most definitively take her mind off of everything-

“Gabriel!” Eugene Fell’s voice booms and Aziraphale jumps, nearly dropping the book before hastily shoving it back into Crowley’s hands so hard the man nearly stumbles, eyes flickering down to the ground as she wrings her hands together. Crowley stares for a moment, stunned. Never has he seen Aziraphale return a book without having read it first, especially not a book of the type he knows she likes and appear as terrified as she does now. Already he senses a deep dislike for the man. But he has to be on his best behaviour to make this succeed. So, he is as polite as he can be, engaging the man in conversation. Aziraphale and Michael are quiet, and while Crowley don’t know Michael, he does know Aziraphale, and this is not normal. Frankly, to the redhead, this is _downright disturbing._

“Say, what have you got there, Lord Crowley?” Eugene asks, as if the book on the table in front of the man has been hidden away until this exact moment.

“A gift.” Crowley says. “For my betrothed.” Eugene booms out a laugh.

“If left with a book, she’d never do her wifely duties. Best not to encourage her, as books aren’t for women.” That is such a backwards way of thinking in Crowley’s mind. There are many well-read women out in the world, why should Aziraphale be any different? And Aziraphale is lovely when she gets absorbed into her readings, emotions flitting across her face with the scenes she reads.

“She enjoys reading.” Crowley answers. “Who am I to deprive her of what she enjoys?” The answer puzzles the woman’s father and he stares stupidly at Crowley, who forces his smile to stay polite, and not turn even just a smidgeon smug. From the corner of his eyes he can see Aziraphale’s mouth quirk into a smile, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared, and she daintily grabs a biscuit to her tea, tentatively starting a conversation with her sister. After that, it is easier. The conversation is pleasant enough, enough that Crowley don’t have to bite back a response as he hears her voice in the background. It all goes swimmingly, until Aziraphale moves to grab a second biscuit, and her father levels her with a glare that causes her to flinch back and Crowley blinks.

What now?

“Aziraphale.” He says in a voice that rubs Crowley the wrong way, and it makes it no better when he watches Aziraphale pull back her hand and twists it through her other in her lap.

“It’s just a biscuit, father.” Michael seems to have had enough, and apparently, so does Eugene, as he stares down at his blonde daughter in what appears to be badly hid disgust.

“By the looks of it she has overindulged enough while staying here. She needs to stop to get in a somewhat _presentable_ state for a wedding.” And Crowley feels something snap, about to launch himself across the table, except Aziraphale hurriedly stands up, head bowed.

“Excuse me, I-I don’t feel well.” Her voice cracks as she speaks and hurries away.

“Aziraphale!” Her father booms angrily. “Get back here!” But she doesn’t heed him and he falls back in his seat grumbling.

“Stupid, ungrateful- You’ll have to forgive her lack of manners, Lord Crowley. We’ll get her fixed up proper for your wedding.” Crowley stands up then, and even though his eyes are hidden behind his glasses, his displeasure is clear as a day.

“I find your company rather unpleasant, Lord Fell, and I hope that I will not suffer it any longer. I find your daughter perfect the way she is, kind, clever, and from the bottom of her heart a good person and I will be happy to save her from being caught in the grasp of such a pathetic excuse of a man as you have proven yourself to be. Good day to you.” And he follows after Aziraphale, not heeding the yelling happening behind him as he leaves the three on the patio, running inside the estate. His legs are longer, and unlike Aziraphale, his feet aren’t unsteady by the sheer force of the sobs escaping her. He quickly catches up to her, stopping her from going any further, or collapsing.

“Aziraphale.” He carefully puts a hand on her arm, and she curls in on herself. “Angel, please look at me.” He fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket and places it in her hand. She gingerly dabs at her face, even as more tears escape her in never-ending rivulets down her cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m s-such a mess.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.” Crowley says gently, pulling her close, but she looks away, hands on his arms to stop him.

“Oh but he is right, isn’t he? I have indulged too much, I do read too much, I lose myself in books, I’d be a terrible wife-“

“Stop.” He tells her firmly and carefully moves her, so she has to look at him. “If any such thing-“ He begins before stopping himself, thinking he should phrase himself differently.

“Aziraphale, I asked you to marry me because I adore who you are.” Her lower lips wobbles, and she seems to be having trouble believing him, and he finds that rather sad, because just the day before she had been so happy, all smiles and bright sunshine and excited talking about a future they will forge together. Just one day with her father has ruined any sense of confidence she had.

“I find you gorgeous, kind, loving, witty, clever, and you _are_ all of these things, despite what your father might think.” And she closes her eyes, tries to control her breathing even as she visibly struggles with thinking clearly.

“He’ll find fault with my behaviour; he’ll end our engagement. He’ll tear us apart and marry me off to his associate!” She very nearly breaks down, but he pulls her into an embrace, this time not meeting any resistance, smoothing a hand over her curly hair.

“I won’t let that happen. If he tries, I’ll ruin him. I’ll make him regret ever getting in our way. As long as you want me, I’ll fight to keep you by my side.” He vows and she sniffles, clutching at the lapels of his coat. She lets herself be comforted by his solid warmth, his vow, his sweet gesture. She can hear faint, thundering footsteps grow louder, and she feels Crowley tighten his hold on her. She breathes in deep, knows that it’s about to get very unpleasant, and tries to prepare herself.

“Aziraphale!” She hears her father roar and her breath catches in her throat. “How dare you embarrass me?” Before the blonde can form any type of response, Crowley speaks up.

“Believe me, sir, your own behaviour is the only thing that is embarrassing.” And the man grows absolutely red-faced as he points at the two, his entire body shaking in rage.

“ _Your engagement is over! I will not be treated this way!”_

“ _You_ contributed _nothing!_ If you break it, you’ll pay me back every pound I’ve already invested into the preparations!” Crowley hisses and Eugene pauses.

“ _Out!”_ Gabriel’s voice booms suddenly, and Eugene looks smug as the dark-haired man storms down the hall. “Out of my house!” And then, when he reaches the three of them, Gabriel shoves Eugene away from the couple, much to everyone’s surprise, and Aziraphale sobs in relief. Gabriel is on her side, Gabriel won’t let her father get away with his unreasonable behaviour either.

“What in the hell are you doing?” The man yells.

“Out! I’ve had enough of you!”

“Not without the girl! She will marry Lord Sandalphon-“

“You gave _me_ legal guardianship of Aziraphale!” Gabriel cuts him off. “You no longer have any legal right to interfere, and if she doesn’t want to marry your associate, _she will not marry your associate! Get out!”_ It’s a horrible racket, a lot of shouting, they nearly come to blows several times, but finally the man is out, and at Gabriel’s order the servants begin packing Eugene Fell’s belongings.

“Toss it out. Unpacked or packed, I do not give a damn!” But all of his servants follow a certain standard, and within the hour, Fell’s belongings are packed and brought out of the estate. Aziraphale can scarcely believe the support she’s been gifted with and she breaks down crying again. Her make-up is a mess now, but it’s not important.

“Are you alright?” Michael asks and the blonde nods.

“I will be.”


	10. Their Day

Aziraphale’s nerves are all over the place. Today is the day. The day she will marry Crowley. Her dress is gorgeous, her hair is perfect, and her make-up is spot on. She feels every bit the beautiful bride Babylon and Michael claim her to be. Aziraphale is so happy that Michael managed to come for the wedding, even as their father said he’d never approve, and never set his foot in Crowley’s home.

That is just fine with Aziraphale.

“You’re stunning. Absolutely stunning.” Michael says, giving Aziraphale a kiss on both cheeks before she and Babylon move towards the door to leave.

“You’ll take everyone’s breath away when you come down that aisle.” And then they’re gone, and Aziraphale waits, breathing deeply. Gabriel finds her later, pausing at the sight of her before wiping his eyes.

“Ready?” He asks, holding out his arm for her to take. She nods as she grasps it, her bouquet in her free hand. She’s led down the stairs, down to the beautiful garden, now filled with rows of seats and expectant guests. The song plays and Aziraphale can’t stop herself from beaming at the man standing at the very end with the priest. And he seems unable to stop gawking at her as she moves closer. And then she’s there, with Crowley, and she focuses enough to repeat her vows, to hear Anthony J. Crowley recite his vows to her, to put a ring on her finger and peck her with a light kiss to her lips, chaste but still conveying so many emotions.

There’s applause as they head down the aisle, rice is thrown as they hurry through, and head to the party area for their food and cake and the celebrations. And even the food is unable to gather any of Aziraphale’s attention, because all she can focus on is how this is the happies day in her life, and she married a good man. She married Crowley. Only when little Warlock appears to hug her and Lucifer to shake Crowley’s hand does she actually begin to focus on what is happening around her, how her guests are.

“Congratulations.” Lucifer tells Crowley. “Never thought you’d get married.”

“Heh, well, I did find someone worth everything.” Crowley seem almost embarrassed, but Aziraphale’s attention is soon taken by Warlock again, who tugs at her dress and wants to hold her hand.

“What is it, my dear?”

“When I’m biggew, I’m going to mawwy a pwetty giwl like you.” It’s very flattering that Warlock thinks her pretty, and a bit amusing that he’s already planning on marrying, despite only being four years old. Babylon and Warlock will be coming back in a little over a week from now, as Lucifer will be leaving on a business trip soon.

“I’m sure you will.” She says, brushing a hand through his hair. “Are you looking forward to visiting soon?” The boy nods his head vigorously.

“Mhm! Auntie Babs and fathew said it’d be ‘good twaining fow you’!” Aziraphale blinks, and then her cheeks flush as Crowley chokes.

“Lucifer!”

“I never told him that.” The boy’s father defends himself and the boy proudly says he overheard the two talking about it before they left for the wedding a few days ago. It is at this point that Lucifer grabs his son, grins and makes a hasty retreat.

“Bloody hell.” Crowley curses and Aziraphale giggles. It’s amusing, and just playful teasing with no ill intent behind it, and she tells her husband _, her husband,_ not to dwell on it, as there are many other things they should think of instead.

“Like how I can kiss you publicly now?” He asks and she gapes at him. “How I can brag about having the most gorgeous, clever, amazing wife in all of London? How I am the luckiest man alive because you said yes?” Even though she’s flustered by such wonderful words, she finds her wit.

“Yes, exactly that.” She tells him, voice trembling only slightly, and Crowley laughs.

“I can do that.” And the party goes on, congratulations are passed around until it grows late, and the guests begin to say their goodbyes and leaves. Once the last of them are gone, the newlyweds breathe a sigh of relief. For Aziraphale, it truly has been a joyous day, but she’s exhausted now, and wants to curl up in her bed and sleep. But then she realizes as Crowley holds out a hand for her to take, that she’s not going to her own bed, she’s heading for _their_ bed, the bed she’s going to share with this man for the rest of her life.

And what is expected to happen tonight.

She swallows and grabs hold of his arm, and lets him lead her through the halls, up the stairs, a part of his estate she’s never actually seen before. It’s all so new, a strange but exhilarating feeling filling her chest as they walk towards huge oak doors. He opens them and gestures for her to enter.

“Please, look around. All of your belongings have been unpacked. Familiarize yourself.” He doesn’t urge her to do anything else, so she does some exploring. It’s a huge room, bigger than any bedchamber she’s ever seen. There are a lot of closets and drawers, and she opens a few, finding both her own outfits as well as his, dresses, shoes, jackets, trousers. There’s a vanity there, and she doesn’t imagine he uses it himself, and so she thinks it’s been brought in here for her. Especially since it’s a much lighter colour than the rest of the furniture in the room. Their room has a balcony, but she decides to take a look outside later, when there is light outside. The rugs beneath her feet are dark in colour, but they look soft. She imagines she can comfortably walk around barefoot in here. And then the bed.

It’s really, really big. And the bedside tables have lamps stationed on them. Aziraphale can read here. The bed has heavy curtains fixed to the posts, so if the people residing in it wants to hide away from the world, they can just pull the curtains shut. It’s all quite extravagant, but she’s come to learn that the man she now calls husband has quite the taste in expensive and extravagant things. There are also two chairs in the room, with a small table. One is _very_ Crowley, but the other stands out and is so very Aziraphale, it’s something that has been placed here for her.

“You’ve done a lot to make me comfortable.” She says as she moves to sit in front of the vanity, moving to start removing the bobs and pins holding her hair up. Crowley moves over and begins helping her after dropping his glasses onto the table, and she hums at the feeling of his fingers combing through her hair.

“You’re going to live here with me, this is your home now. Of course I want you to be comfortable.” He seems almost embarrassed, and she wonders why. Through the mirror of her vanity she glances towards the bed, and she feels nervous again. Crowley seem to pick up on it as the final locks of hair fall down her shoulders and leans down.

“What is it?”

“I, um, well.” She gestures to the bed, cheeks flushing and when she turns around in her seat, Crowley is right there, kneeling on the floor.

“Aziraphale, nothing needs to happen tonight.” And how sweet isn’t that? No pressure, no assumptions, but still, after everything that has happened, with how he treats her, makes her feel cherished and cared for…

“I want to please you.” She says quietly and the corners of his lips raise.

“You said yes, you married me. You’re letting me cherish you, care for you, protect you, you brighten my life. You’ve already pleased me.” He tells her reverently, and oh how that nearly brings tears to her eyes. She reaches out for him and hugs him close, both hearing and feeling him chuckle quietly, and feels a small surge of confidence.

“Then please me, _husband_.” The laughter dies out and Crowley goes very still. A few moments pass before he pulls back, staring at her wide-eyed. She stares back, and once he seems capable of moving again, he has her stand up and turn around. Once she has her back turned to him, he starts working on the fastenings of her dress and she feels her heartbeat pick up, she can see in the vanity mirror how he looks so concentrated while undoing the bindings. When it’s loose enough to fall should it just be lightly tugged on, he turns her back around, but he doesn’t tug it off of her. Instead he sheds his own jacket and begins unbuttoning his shirt. Aziraphale watches him get rid of the layers on his upper body, and then they just stare. This kind of state of undress is completely new to Aziraphale, but she’s curious, so she brings one hand up, feels her dress shift as she moves and presses a hand flat to Crowley’s chest. His breathing picks up a bit, and she looks up, watching his reaction as she slowly moves her hand over his chest, then down, feels the muscles in his stomach flutter and nearly jumps when a shudder course through him.

“Does that feel… good?” She asks and he nods. Aziraphale exhales, before pulling on her dress, letting it pool around her legs. Her chemise is sheer, and she’s never been so underdressed in front of anyone but her maids. She’s hit by a wave of self-consciousness, wanting to cover up. Before she can voice or act on any such desire, Crowley has gathered her face in his hands and kisses her. Simple brushes of lips, inspiring comfort, relaxing her. She presses her hands to his chest again, sliding them upwards to grab onto his shoulders.

“Is this alright?” He asks quietly, and she nods.

“Yes.” He kisses her again, deeper this time, one arm wrapping around her and pulling her closer. She squeaks when she feels something hard against her stomach, colour turning even darker on her cheeks when she realizes what it is. Crowley pulls back and takes her hand, leading her towards the bed, both of them taking a seat.

“When we do this, I want you to tell me what feels good, and what doesn’t.” She stutters, but he levels her with a look. “You told me to please you, and I will, but you need to tell me what you feel is good or not.” She concedes his point. How can he know if she doesn’t tell him? She doesn’t know whether or not he has done something like this before, but even so, they’ve never done this together, and he can’t know what she enjoys before they have.

“I like kissing.” She admits, and he smiles at her in such a manner that she feels like she has pleased him, and he kisses her again, one hand cradling her face, the other running up and down her arm. There are a lot of sensations to the simple touch, and then he pulls back, hands going to her hair, running his fingers through her curls, asking how that feels. She hums, telling him that she enjoys such touches too. They make her feel calm, soothed, and she sighs, pushing his hand away gently, before standing up. He looks confused for all of three seconds until she pulls her chemise off. He stares, and she takes the chance to slide back onto the bed, and while she just can’t rid herself of her nervousness which comes and goes in waves, because this is all so new to her, she also feels _good_ and _confident_ as she rests against all the pillows.

“Won’t you come here?” She asks, and he pulls himself up to her, hovering over her on hands and knees. He moves one hand to stroke her cheek and Aziraphale smiles.

“This is nice.”

“Good.”

“Can you touch me?”

“Where?” And having to tell him when she’s not sure herself causes her to stammer a bit, and she can see that he thinks it is a bit amusing, but she won’t back down. She asked for this, she wants this.

“M-my neck. My arms and hair felt good, I’d like more of that too. And… my chest?” And he acquiesces, featherlight touches making her sigh, it’s all so pleasant and unhurried and she feels so important and cherished as Crowley moves over her, kisses her lips, her jaw, her neck, asks, more like breathes it across her skin, if it’s okay to kiss her everywhere and she nods, feeling far too content to deny him or herself anything right now. She pulls him closer, lets her own hands run up and down his chest, over his shoulders and down his back, feels his heated skin, and a thought enters her mind.

What would it feel like, his skin against hers? She pushes him back a bit, only then realizing that her breath is coming in heavy pants, and she’s tingling all over.

“Is something wrong?” Crowley asks and she shakes her head.

“Clothes.” She mumbles, fingers tracing the edge of his trousers and he nods, pulling back and removing the last of his clothing and she sits up, watches, but then losing her nerve before he’s done and she falls back. And then, once they are both bare, it feels like they’ve crossed an invisible line. When she bounces on the bed after throwing herself backwards, she giggles, though the laughter fades slowly as he lays down beside her. The smile stays in place though and she turns to face him, so they both lie on their sides facing each other.

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes?” He reaches forward and lays a hand over her hip.

“Is this alright?” She stares at him for a few moments before shuffling closer.

“Anthony. Touch me. Trust that I’ll tell you if I become uncomfortable.” He nods and kisses her again, hand roaming over her, pulling her flush to him and she gasps, head falling back and Crowley kisses down her throat, her collarbones, chest, and then she finds herself on her back and him hovering over her, one hand continuing to touch her, the other between her legs. And he watches with rapt attention, listens to her as he touches her, watches how she arches her back and makes loud sounds of pleasure, how she reacts when he sinks his fingers into her. She clutches at his arm and cries out as he brings her to the height of pleasure slowly and carefully. He watches as she cries out, how her eyes flutter closed, hips working, her thighs clamping down on his hand as he works her through it.

And by Somebody if that isn’t the most amazing thing he’s ever witnessed before in his entire life. And he’ll get to see it again.

“How do you feel?” He asks once she’s got her breathing under control and she grins giddily up at him.

“Amazing.” He returns the smile. “Come here.” She opens her arms and he hug her, moving to settle between her legs. The anticipation rises as she feels him reach between them and beginning to push in. His eyes shut tight at the sensations, and he tries to be as gentle as he can as he rolls his hips slowly.

“I love you.” His eyes open, and he blinks before he can properly focus on Aziraphale’s face, and he sees her look up at him with near glowing blue eyes, the red flush covering her face down to her chest, the smile…

That smile.

“I love you, you amazing, kind and clever man.” And if that isn’t one of the most amazing things he’s ever _heard.._. His hips are flush to hers now, and his head drops to her shoulder where he growls something unintelligible and she runs her hands up and down his back, feeling oddly calm. When Crowley had pushed into her, there had been an initial discomfort, but it’s fading fast as he stays still, pressing kisses to whatever part of her can reach. Perhaps she is so calm because Crowley is so careful with her.

He mumbles something against her shoulder, planting a kiss there.

“Hm?”

“Loved you since the first time I saw you in my home.” He says a bit louder, and she hugs him tighter. This is what happiness is, isn’t it? This is what she wanted, what she dreamed of her whole life, what she fought for. She wiggles her hips.

“You can move. Please, Anthony, move.” She tells him. The discomfort is all but gone, and she wants to please him, like he pleased her.

“Are you-“

“Please me, I said.” And he gives a somewhat strained laugh from that.

“Demanding little thing.” But he rolls his hips slowly, experimentally. It’s a bit strange, this feeling of him inside her, but then he shifts, and her nails dig into his back.

“Oh!” And he hits that spot again and again, eyes intense with a focus she’s never felt before and it lights her on fire, and she can feel that sensation from earlier, when he touched her, pooling in her stomach, overwhelming her. He wraps and arm under her back, lifting her hips, and she nearly wails as she feels overcome, and clutches at him as she falls apart, vaguely hearing him exclaim something and stilling, tightening the grip he has on her. When she comes to, Crowley is a heavy weight over her, breathing hard. She runs a hand through his hair as she waits for him to regain his senses.

“Ngk.” She giggles at that, and he pulls himself up, blinking blearily.

“Hello.”

“How’s that?”

“Amazing.” She replies.

“Good.” He breathes in before pulling himself out and to lay down beside her. She turns onto her side and he holds up an arm in a sleepy invitation. She takes it, shuffling closer until he’s holding her comfortably close to himself. It’s nice, being held like this, being loved like this.

It’s all she’s ever wanted.


	11. Their Happy Ever After

Married life has been an absolute delight these amazing two years. This feeling of being loved and cherished, and to love back in return, it’s an indescribable feeling. It brings about something, something _amazing_ , something she doesn’t have a proper word for, which is quite incredible in itself. Of course, Crowley has to leave for an extended period of time because of his business and other circumstance every now and then, and these times are sometimes lonely for her, even with the letters he sends, because that is a tradition they will not be breaking anytime soon. Babylon sometimes come by when that happens, or Aziraphale is invited to be in Gabriel’s company if he’s not too busy himself. She has not heard from her father after Gabriel tossed him out of his home, but Michael writes often, and that’s all the blonde needs from her family.

And Aziraphale has finally met Beelzebub. They seem such an interesting person, the one who owns the tailoring shop Dagon works in even, and Aziraphale is happy for Gabriel. Truly they seem to be quite the no-nonsense type of person, which her cousin sorely needs every now and then. Truly, a good friend for Gabriel to have. Or whatever it is they are. Aziraphale sometimes thought she sensed a spark, but she might be wrong, as Beelzebub never seem to be able to change their expression into something else than complete and utter boredom. Well, time will tell, Aziraphale guesses.

But while Crowley having to leave at times saddens her, his returns are always an exciting and joyful affair. As Aziraphale enters the library, she smiles at the thought that her husband will soon be returning, in a few days, and she wonders what book he’ll bring her this time. She puts her finished book back in its place on the shelf and begins looking for a new one. She ventures up the stairs to the second story of the room, and picks a random book, attempting to be a bit daring and do something reckless before she goes back down to find herself a seat, pointedly avoiding looking at the settee she used to love to longue on while reading.

She takes a seat in a cosy armchair, wiggling to get comfortable and opens the book. Not long into it she realizes that maybe she should have checked what kind of genre it was before beginning to read it, as she soon finds herself reading some rather raunchy material. She closes the book and fans her cheeks. It’s quite different to read about these kinds of things before having experienced them herself, than after said experiences have been made.

“Oh dear. Quite.” She says to herself as she feels the heat leave her cheeks, and then her eyes fall onto the settee again and the flush promptly returns, much darker, as she remembers what happened on that settee not too long ago. She shakes her head and resolutely picks up her book again, deciding to focus on the story, however plotless it seems, and not the memories of the shenanigans which have happened in this room.

_And he kisses her like she was his everything, his sun and moon, his life. His desire to have her right then and there was-_

Well, it’s hard to ignore the memories when the book and its words are kind of reciting said memories to the letter. She shakes her head and tries again. She can focus, she can block out the world and everything around it, that is what she usually does when reading, she can do it now as well.

_He slides a leg between hers, lets her feel his desire pressing into her stomach. She gasps, head rolling to the side so he can kiss her, leave marks on her. In his mind, this permission she gives him, is the perfect opportunity to leave a promise, a warning to others who lays unworthy eyes on her, a warning to stay away, a warning that she has been chosen by someone, and accepted their claim._

This isn’t working. She closes the book and closes her eyes, breathing in deep as she tries to dispel the image. The book is just bringing it all back and she feels hot all over now, and that is such a waste of time, because, well, what is the point without Crowley here? It’s not like she can’t achieve pleasure on her own, they’ve dabbled in that, but it just makes her feel hollow without her husband here, so she usually refrains when he’s gone. But the book, oh how it brings it all back to the forefront of her mind, how Crowley had once come into the library after she had yet again lost herself in a text, had stayed there for hours and was about to miss dinner with him. How he had gently coaxed her back to the real world by gently rubbing her shoulders, then kissing her cheek once she realized she wasn’t alone, and she returned the kiss on his lips, and the book was soon forgotten and she had found herself on her back and her husband hovering over her, glasses gone and a smirk spread across his face as his hands lifts her skirts, sliding under, inching ever closer to her-

She shakes her head. No, it’s going to backfire, it’s already becoming quite bothersome, she feels. No, she’d best take the book with her, and read it in a room she will not be distracted by naughty thoughts. But, oh, that settee is so comfortable, she thinks, before she resolutely walks out of the door, and to her great surprise, straight into Crowley.

“Oh!”

“Hello?” And then she hugs him, because he’s been gone for nearly a fortnight and she has missed him and didn’t expect him back for another few days.

“You’re back already!” And this is one of the reasons why Crowley suffers through his trips, to this enthusiastic welcome once his wife sees him.

“Yes.”

“Did everything go well?”

“Very. What’s the rush? I’ve never seen you _leave_ the library in such a haste.” Crowley asks and she giggles nervously.

“Oh, I just wanted a quiet place to read.”

“A quieter place than the library?” And she flushes a deep red, causing him to blink once, twice, three times before a dark chuckle leaves him.

“Oh my, are you having naughty thoughts, angel?” The moment she glares up at him, he knows he got it right.

“And who’s fault is that?!” He laughs at her outburst, finds her pout incredibly adorable and he doubts that she’ll ever lose that effect as he reaches out to tug on a stray lock of curls.

“It is to my recollection, that you eagerly encouraged my advances, my kisses, my _hands slipping up your leg_ -“

“Hush you!” She doesn’t need him to point that out, she can remember it quite vividly, and that is the reason she is leaving the library. He takes pity on her and holds out his arm.

“Let’s find a place to sit, then you can read to me, how about that?” She accepts the arm, and says that if that is to be so, she’d rather find another book. He plucks it out of her hands and flips through it, a sharp grin widening across his face as he holds it up.

“No, read this one. And then maybe we can do a comparison? Which one is better, reading it, or experiencing it?”

“You’re incorrigible!” She huffs, and his grin just widens, as if that truly is possible at this point.

“You love me.”

“And you love me.” She gets some satisfaction out of this exchange, knowing that even after two years his cheeks turn red when they say these words to each other.

Later on Aziraphale will tell him that the book has absolutely nothing on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at endings, but this is it. Thank you all so much for coming along with me on this!


End file.
